


Life's A Dream.

by hufflepunk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepunk/pseuds/hufflepunk
Summary: Our dear Warden is feeling a bit under the weather (hey, even heroes get the sniffles), and Alistair knows exactly what she needs. Cuddles may or may not be included.





	Life's A Dream.

Adria sighed as she unlaced her muddy, wet boots, and tossed them on the other side of her tent. The leather made a soft clump as it hit her chainmail, which chimed in response to the offending footwear. Her muscles ached as she stretched. Exhausted and slightly chilled, she quickly put on one of Alistair's old shirts, the dark plum cotton hanging gently on her small but muscular frame, the violet hue a stark contrast to her sun-kissed skin. The corners of her mouth quirked as she remembered just how pale she used to be after decades spent locked up in the Circle. It had only been a few months before the sun made its mark on her. Alistair mentioned once how it brought out her stormy green eyes, eyes that seemed gentle and fierce all at once. Adria blushed, heat spreading across her cheeks, as she remembered how the rest of that night went. So much had changed in what felt like a lifetime.

Suddenly, a deep, rough chortle brought her out of her pondering. The mage peeked open the flap of her tent and saw Oghren nudge the other Warden on the shoulder, obviously in the middle of one of his more “famous” tales. “....you see, nug-face, you don’t know what lucky means till you win a brawl with a priest, qunari, and a noble. Didn’t even have to use my hammer, pure fists.” The dwarf said, gulping down some ale, the honey tinted liquid dripping down his beard. The younger man furrowed his blonde eyebrows as he rubbed his hands closer to the dying embers of the fire. “Somehow, I have trouble believing that one.” Leliana agreed as she knelt down to add more kindling, the fire sputtering back to life. “Honestly, Oghren, you spin a tale with more skill than a tipsy Orelisen lady. There. That should keep us warm.”

Her head turned as she heard Adrias quiet footsteps behind her. The young mage was wrapped nearly head to toe in the wool blanket they got from the Dalish as a gift before they left for the Frostbacks, nearly three months ago. Her nose was cherry red and she shivered slightly. Leliana was surprised to see Adria like this, usually nothing seemed to bother her even when they got stuck in the middle of a raging thunderstorm.

“Maker, are you alright?” Alistair jumped up, nearly knocking over his plate as he rushed over to wrap her in his arms. “I’m--fffffineee, it's ju-sss-ttt a small c-c-old.” She muttered through chattering teeth. Alistair rolled his eyes. Just as stubborn as a mabari, he thought. “Come here.” He sat back down near the fire, placing her gently into his lap. She sighed as she burrowed deeper into his chest, her hands trembling as she held onto him. Concerned, Alistair brushed his fingers across her forehead.

_Damn, she was burning up!_ Beads of sweat pooled down her face, her usually neat tresses knotted in what used to be a braid. “You’re not okay. You must have caught something on our way back from the Wilds. Maker knows, treading through those freezing marshes would have done you in.” Groaning, Adria nodded. “I hate feeling like this.” Her voice was raspy and thin. _All the things we have learned about magic and all the power I have, and I still fall victim to a chill._ She huffed, frustration boiling up inside her. She hated feeling helpless. Alistair smiled, “I know, baby. It is okay to let others take care of you, you know.” He gently rubbed his fingers across the small of her back, his chin resting on top of her forehead. Adia blinked, startled. She didn’t realize that she had spoken those last thoughts aloud. Sighing, she traced circles on the groove of his neck.

“I suppose Wynne could make something for my throat. Ginger and honey tea, if we have it.”

“Of course.” He glanced over to Leliana, who nodded and got up to find the older mage. Oghren, with a knowing look in his glinting eyes, offered to relive Sten of his watch, leaving the two of them alone for a moment. For a minute, it was quiet. The only sounds were the wind whistling through the trees, the crickets humming and frogs croaking in the distance. It was peaceful, and Adria sighed as she relaxed, the sound of his heartbeat was reassuring. Out of the blue, a hacking cough jolted her and she leaned forward, her face buried in the wool. Alistair grimaced as he placed his hand on her back, her entire frame shaking, tears streaming down her face with the intensity of the fit. Finally, it was over and she collapsed back onto his chest, feeling weaker than she could remember. He tightened his embrace and slowly rocked back and forth, humming. He hated seeing her like this, and he would give anything if it meant she would be better. He supposed the only thing he could do was simply be there for her. He vowed, once, to do anything to protect her. He chuckled. To be honest, he was thinking more along the lines of darkspawn but apparently, the common cold was another foe to contend with. Fingers playing in her auburn hair, gently unraveling her braid, Alistair softly began singing a lullaby. The tune was familiar to her and his voice was warm and soothing. Her eyes felt heavy, and her mind drifted as she was lulled by his voice into a deep sleep. Soon enough, he felt her breathing relax, slow. To him, they were the only ones who existed. She was all that mattered.

**fin.**


End file.
